


Determining Value

by SunnyD_lite



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Case Fic, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-08
Updated: 2010-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:39:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyD_lite/pseuds/SunnyD_lite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all crimes are major. Or Blair tries to get the hang of this pig police work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written over several months, based on prompts from **tamingthemuse**. Once I'd finished it, the lovely **janedavitt** agreed to beta. All mistakes are my own. This chapter's prompt was arctophile  
> Set: 1st Season between Night Train and Rogue  
> Disclaimer: The Sentinel is owned by Petfly and other corporations. No profit no foul right?

Jim was flipping through the paper as his temporary roommate imitated a tropical storm, swirling around the loft getting ready for his day, when an item caught his eye.

"Huh."

"What's that?" A streak of flannel whisked past him to grab some containers from the fridge and stuff them into the ever present backpack.

"There's an exhibit dedicated to, get this, teddy bears. What's next? A Tinkertoy museum?"

"Think there's one in California."

"You've got to be kidding me."

He had to focus as a voice blurred by a toothbrush replied, "No, somebody's basement."

"That's not a museum; that's junk waiting to be cleaned out," he said dismissively. "Are you going be by the station later?"

Blair emerged from the bathroom and grabbed his oversized jacket and ubiquitous backpack. "Yup, no office hours today. Lunchtime okay? Is that the time? I hate 8:30 classes, gotta run!"

And out blew tropical storm Sandburg, leaving a wake of, well, not destruction, but definitely disturbance in his path. Jim put down the paper and quickly scanned the loft observing the books and random shirts which now decorated his once pristine living space. "Temporary," he mutter to himself, ruefully aware it was becoming what Sandburg called a mantra. The kid was here to help with his senses; that was it.

**  
"So, Sandburg coming in today?" Brown asked as he snagged a doughnut from the tea girl's tray.   
&lt;  
"He's not here for your entertainment." That's not what he thought he was going to say. Jim tried to focus on the report in front of him. The one he'd been staring at for twenty minutes.

Henri's voice dropped. "Not just entertainment. He was giving me advice on Betty."

That was just so Sandburg, spewing advice, solicited or not, in all directions. And Jim was not going to check his watch again to try and figure out what lunchtime meant to a grad student.

"He'll be in," he replied grudgingly.

"Great. Send him over and give him a chance to observe _REAL_ police work."

"Wonderful idea, who have you got showing you two how real detectives work?"

Shaking his head, Brown swallowed the last of his chocolate doughnut and returned to his desk.

Calm reigned until...

"Ellison! And is your sidekick here yet?"

The sonorous cry of his boss, with a side of frustration, a tone he heard all too frequently. The fact he'd asked after Sandburg was different. Jim quickly pushed away from his desk and walked over to Simon's open door.

"He'll be here. What's up?"  
"I'm hoping this is one case you can manage without automatic weapons coming into play. It's at the museum. A friend of the Mayor's, so it's been kicked to us. I hate politics."  
He watched Simon flip through the file then shove it towards him. "I really don't want to know what the world's coming to," his captain continued, "when this is a Major Crime."

"When what's a Major Crime?" How the hell had the kid snuck up on both of them like that?

"Sandburg, this is an office. My office, to be precise. You have to be invited into my office. Do you see me inviting you?"

"I was by the elevators when you mentioned 'sidekick'." Guileless. Jim had heard the term before but had never seen it in action until he started spending time with Sandburg.

"So, crime? What are we working on?"

"'We' aren't working on anything. You're observing a non-life threatening situation involving museum staff and --" Jim looked down at the file and stopped cold.

"What? Jim, Simon? Hey, how can I help if no one tells me what's going on?"

Simon almost spat the words out, "Teddy bears".

**

Of course, this case made him the butt of jokes all day. Saunders from Vice couldn't resist popping in to say, "Gang warfare, international assassins, and now teddy bears. Think someone's trying to tell you you're washed up?"

"Just because your biggest active case is the mystery of the missing doughnuts, don't knock those of us doing actual police work." It was a weak rejoinder, but Christ, teddy bears.

Saunders headed out as Blair chirped up, "Hey, that exhibit had some rare items. I heard they even have a Michtom bear. That's of interest to both political collectors and arctophiles. And two competing sets of collectors? Man, that thing is insured for thirty thousand, easy."

Henri, who'd been enjoying the show, spat out the coffee he'd just sipped. "Thirty Gs? For a toy?"

"It's more than a toy."

Jim leaned back in his chair to enjoy Professor Sandburg in action. Where the kid got his information, he'd never know, but it was fun when the information flood gate weren't unleashed at him.

"As you know, teddy bears were named after the political cartoon showing President Teddy Roosevelt not shooting a bear. Michtom was the shop keeper who got permission from the President to name a bear doll a 'teddy bear'. So the original ones are key for arctophiles."

"Acto-whats?" And he was glad Rafe had asked the question so he wouldn't have to.

Blair just smiled. "Bear lovers, from the Greek arcto, bear."

"Wouldn't that make this a sex-crimes case?" The confusion on H's face was worth the wet towel he'd found in the bathroom this morning.

"Mind out of the gutter, there! That would be the psychological term arctophilia This term denotes more collectors and fans."

"Whatever it denotes, we'd better be heading to the crime scene," Jim picked up his coat and tilted his head towards the elevators. "Might as well get there before it's trampled by those collectors you're talking about."

That shook Blair out of professor-mode. "Oh, fresh clues," he said with an attempt at an eyebrow wiggle. Sidekick was right. He had as much subtlety as Robin from the Adam West TV show.

And that's how the great teddy bear case got started.  
**

Man, he'd never really thought about the day-to-day life of the pi-- um, police, so working with Jim was a real education. Almost as real as the time he'd been adopted by the Kombai Tree people, not that he'd be telling Jim about that little adventure. Both were brand-new societies where he really didn't share a language, except with the police he kept thinking he did.

Like arctophile. He should know better than that. He didn't mean to make people feel dumb, he just got caught up in an idea and the right, the technical, terms flowed without him thinking about it. Not that Henri was dumb, just differently educated. Maybe he should be borrowing the police manual so he'd get all the codes down and learn this native language. He was typing enough of Jim's reports that he bet he'd learned half of it already.

"So are you getting out or do you want to observe from the truck?" Jim's wry tone pulled him back to the here and now.

"Wait, wait. Before we go in there which sense are you going to use or will you do a sweep? Do you want me to keep whoever distracted? How do you want to play this?"

They really should have their modus operandi down by now, but each situation seemed so different.

"I think we should go in and I'll do the interviews and you try not to touch anything. You good with that, Chief?"

"Well, it's not really a plan." At that point Jim was halfway up the stairs leading into the neo-classical gray stone building, so Blair just locked the door and scrambled to catch up.  
It was a feeling he was getting used to.


	2. Fic: Determining Value 2/4 by Sunnyd_lite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by the **Tamingthemuse** prompt Solidary Confinement

  
Jim's footsteps echoed in the museum's rotunda as he headed towards the two uniforms and a young female museum guard huddled by the entrance to the exhibit halls. He grimaced at the large banners announcing the "Teddy Bears' Picnic Exhibit: Over 90 Years of America's Favorite Toy." He took a deep breath. There'd been a crime committed; that's all he really needed to know.

He recognized one of the uniforms. "Hey, Lincoln, what have we got?"

The black officer looked up from his conversation with the redheaded guard and blinked.

"Detective Ellison! I wasn't expecting you, sir." He turned back to the guard. "The brass are pulling out all the stops if they sent Ellison. He single-handedly bagged the Juno assassins last month."

He didn't want the fanfare; he was here to do a job. Over a teddy bear. "Detective Ellison." He paused, waiting. Then he glared. Lincoln finally bought a clue.

"Oh, sorry. Detective Ellison, this is Melissa Cooper. She called in the theft."

"Hi, Melissa, nice to meet you!" Sandburg interjected while extending a hand to the museum employee. Well, he hadn't told him not to talk; something to remember for next time.

"And this is Sandburg. He's observing." And the gang's all here.

"Man, it must be great working here with all the traveling exhibits. Plus, the Cascade Museum has the Kobayashi Collection of Japanese porcelain. Jim, we really should go see it some time. They have this sake set that's --"

"Not on today's agenda. Excuse him, Ms. Cooper. I know that you've given Officer Lincoln here a statement, but would you mind walking," he paused to look at Sandburg, "us"-- the kid beamed --"through it?"

"Anything to help, Detective. I wanted to go to the Academy myself, but plans changed and I needed something safer." She shrugged. "Normally, this job is making sure people leave and keeping keen patrons from touching anything." Over her shoulder he saw Sandburg snatch his hand back from, he focused his sight on the sign, a mink teddy bear. Funny how he hadn't stuck next to Melissa.

"This way," she continued. "It's at the beginning of the exhibit."

The first display that caught his eye was a six-foot blowup of a political cartoon. Subtle as always, Sandburg nudged him. "That's the cartoon I was talking about."

Across from it was another display: a blown-up sepia photograph depicting a turn of the century couple standing in front of a store whose plate glass window read "Ideal Novelty and Toy Corporation". The woman, wife he supposed, was holding a misshapen bear with rounded ears. In between was a glass case with a raised dais in the middle. An empty dais.

"As soon as I saw it was empty, I sealed the area and called you, and the insurance company."

As if the mere mention was enough, a guy in a suit carrying a leather briefcase turned up. Although when he moved closer, Jim caught a hint of oil overlaying another scent, something familiar that he couldn't quite identify, so make that a pleather case. "I was told that a Ms. Cooper would assist me."

"And I'm sure she will, once we open the scene." He turned toward the shorter man and, perhaps, loomed a bit. "Detective Ellison, and you are…?"

"John Quincy, Lloyd's of London. We've insured this exhibit." Oh, he knew that tone from too many cocktail parties when his father had needed his two accessories to mingle and 'do him proud'. Funny how accessories had a different meaning in his current job.

"Pleasure to meet you, but you're a little early. Our Forensics crew hasn't cleared the scene. However, I hear this place has a great coffee shop." Just what they needed, more people to contaminate the area. One of which was his observer. "Sandburg."

"I just...I'll stand over here." Blair raised his hands in the traditional 'I surrender' move. Jim made a mental note to tell the lab to remove any of Sandburg's prints. He really should start carrying extra gloves. Of course, if the kid had gloves he'd figure it was carte blanche. Temporary. He had to keep remembering that.

Sighing, he turned back to Melissa. "Did the museum receive any threats against the exhibit? Do you know of any groups planning to protest?"

"Public Relations would have that information. Sometimes they let us know if they expect trouble over a political exhibit, but teddy bears?" She looked as confused as he was feeling. What was the motive?

"How much?"

They both turned towards the high-pitched yelp.

"Well, the highest auction price was at Christie's auction in 1994. A Girl Steiff bear went for over 270,000 Deutschmarks or over $610,000 U.S. Dollars." That explained the yip from his roommate. This was a guy who figured two hundred and seventy dollars was a nest egg.

"The item was recently acquired by Mrs. Hopkins and loaned to the museum for this exhibit. She obtained an extra policy, beyond the one for the rest of the show. That's why I was called in."

Ah yes, the long-winded explanation of the self-important.

"Is that a usual practice?" While he'd been glancing at the security guard, Quincy responded. "It's not unheard of, but neither is it a standard practice. However, Lloyd's always accommodates our clients' wishes." You could almost hear the British cadence through his Midwestern accent.

Jim smiled at Melissa, then turned to the scene itself. Noting the security cameras, he asked about the tapes.

"And we will also require copies for our own investigation." Insurance. Just another wrinkle he really didn't need right now, if ever. Melissa seemed to share his opinion but gamefully maintained a straight face. "I'll check right away."

"That's fine," he assured her. "Forensics ought to be here shortly. We'll just wait here for them."

"Will this take long?" A new voice demanded attention. "It's opening day and although Thursday is our late start people _will_ be wanting in."

Despite the spacious dimensions of the exhibit hall, it was starting to feel crowded. The voice belonged to a blonde in a no-nonsense blue suit and heels that showed off more leg than strictly necessary. They were nice legs, but that was balanced by the chill Jim got when he raised his gaze to green eyes the shade of deep glaciers. Her demeanor wasn't much warmer.

"We are treating this with the same diligence as any crime." He kept his tone bland.

"Especially with the Mayor breathing fire," he heard Sandburg whisper to Lincoln. "That bear belonged to his major financial backer." Where did the kid get this stuff? Useful though it was.

"Time?"

"I'm Detective Ellison, and you are?" He pulled out his notebook and flipped it open to copy her name. Two could play the cold game.

"Ms. Elizabeth Svendsen, Public Relations for the Cascade Museum."

"Just the person we needed to talk with, after we've secured the scene." Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Melissa slipping away and didn't blame her. He'd seen sharks with warmer blood.

Not letting Ms. Svendsen regroup, he continued, "Were there any threats or had Mrs. Hopkins mentioned any reason she'd applied for the additional insurance?"

Her head moved as if she'd been about to sniff, but had remembered that it wasn't ladylike. "We tried to assure her of our excellent security record, but she insisted."

Ignoring the smothered guffaw behind him, Jim inquired, "Is there a large market for the bear? I wouldn't think that there're too many originals left." Greed or covetousness, both made good motives. Motives weren't needed for a conviction, but it sure helped narrow the list of suspects.

"That's a question I'm sure the curator can answer. I do know that the previous owner only wanted to sell it rather than offer it for display." She looked down at a slim watch on her wrist. "Any idea on when you'll be done?"

Behind her, he saw the other officer escort one of Carolyn's teams towards the area. "Here's Forensics now. I'll let them answer that." Nodding to the newcomers, he turned around and walked towards the empty display case.

"Do you need help?" Blair muttered in his ear. "Breath slowly and concentrate on scent. I'm here. Remember, identify and discard."

And for some reason he always followed that low tone. There were the scents of cleaners, an underlying whiff of red wine, the pleather from before, and then the elusive scent that tickled the back of his memory. Following the scent, he began to move around the display case. "What's that?" There was something like ash beside the case.

"Hey, Singh, I think we've found something," he called over to the lead investigator. She was a good sort, and with Forensics here, there was no chance of doing more than letting them complete their job.

"Quick, try sight."

With a glare at his partner, he focused on the outside of the casing. No fingerprints; that would have been too easy, but caught in the closure... Yes.

"What have we got, Ellison? And you do realize that we know our jobs, don't you?" But there was amusement in the investigator's tone. They'd shared many crime scenes and this gentle teasing was par for the course.

"Just a strange residue here." He pointed to the ashes. "And a hair."

"How did you --? Never mind, Carolyn's mentioned that there was cleanliness, godliness, and Ellison's levels of clean. Better you living with him, then me." This last was directed to Sandburg.

"It's just a week. It's hard to find a place this time of the semester." Again with the surrender move. He was helping the kid out, despite the ribbing everyone got that. Well maybe everyone but Sandburg. Maybe it was time to tell him that. And speaking about time...

"Just trying to speed things up here. Ms. Public Relations has her panties in a twist."

"Can you twist something that icy? For someone so hot, she's giving me all the wrong kind of chills." Blair mimed shivers.

"Let me look after that," Singh responded. "So I'm guessing you want the results--"

"Yesterday. Not me, it's that the Mayor." They shared a commiserating look. Politics and police work were always unhappy bedfellows.

"And I think it's wrong." Oh, this should be good.

"Dare I ask what's going on in that thing you call a brain?"

"Look, the exhibit's entitled Teddy Bear's Picnic, yet their prime example was locked in solitary confinement while the other bears were at least in dioramas."

Heading out the doors of the museum, Jim could only shake his head. Where did the kid come up with this stuff? "You can complain to Amnesty International later, we've got to track down the prior owners."

"Hope you're up for a seance then. Wait, I wonder if..."

Reaching the truck, he unlocked the door and glared as Blair got in the other side. "What do you mean?"

"Right, you were talking to the hot iceberg. The sign on the empty case gave a bit of background, including the fact that Mrs. Hopkins purchased it from the estate of Christopher Blake."

And life just kept getting better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The price for the "Girl Bear" is true, but that price was beaten in Christie's in Monaco on October 14 2000 for a Louis Vuitton Bear with accessories. That price was 213, 720.00 Euros. Since this story is set in 1997, I mention this for only for my love of trivia.


	3. Fic: Determining Value 3/4 by Sunnyd_lite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some crimes are more major than others

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> Feedback: Yes please!  
> Prompt:**tamingthemuse** prompt 79 Marigold  
> A/N: Part three of the Teddy Bear caper. Interviewing the victim.   
> AO3 is doing wacky things with breaks, will fix

After reporting in to the station, Jim just started driving.

"Um, where are we going?"

"This one's on the Mayor's radar, so I'm going to interview Mrs. Hopkins."

"And then she can't complain nothing is being done. Smart."

He didn't miss Jim's sideways glare, meaning he'd said something moronic. Just when he thought knew what was going on, he ran against that thin blue line. No matter what Jim thought, it was so there. A few more hits and he'd have to check himself for a concussion.

But he was here to help Jim with his senses. He had a job to do, and he'd do it whether Jim wanted him to or not.

At least until his observer pass ran out. But as his mother said, negative thinking led to negative results. Taking a calming breath, Blair decided the direct approach might work.

"Did anything at the scene twig for you? I know you found that stuff, and how long will the analysis take, by the way, but anything else?"

Blair pulled his left leg up so he could twist to better see Jim's expression. In the weeks they'd been working together he was slowly learning how to read his, what? Subject? Teacher? The guy whose generous nature gave him a place to stay, despite the grumbling over wet towels? Maybe even a friend? Face value was the one thing not to rely on with Jim.

"With the brass riding this one, Forensics will rush the tests. Singh will call as soon as they're done. Chemical analysis normally takes a couple of days." Jim paused to rub his temple. "Not that facts will stop the pressure for an immediate arrest."

The traffic had eased, and Blair realized that the passing trees had suddenly gotten a lot bigger, as had the houses. He'd done a semester house-sitting for one of his profs, and thought he was living the high life. That place looked like his old apartment compared to these residences. Clearly they were now in millionaires' row.

"Man, I didn't even know this part of the city existed." He scanned the gates and stone half walls. He even noticed a six-foot tall cedar hedge that completely obscured the house behind. They turned into a driveway of interlocking bricks and Jim pulled up to an intercom. "Cascade PD for Mrs. Dickson. We're expected," Jim stated into the static. They must have heard him, because the gates began moving back as if of their own volition.

"Wow, technology has become the invisible servants. Hey, I might be able to write a paper with Cecelia, she's a history major with a feminist interpretation. I bet we could..."

"Chief?" Jim interrupted. "One job at a time, capiche?" Jim pulled the truck into the circular drive, avoiding the four expensive vehicles already there.

"Oh, right. So this is the same as the museum. I feel like a Victorian child: seen and not heard."

Jim started at that, but then tossed a half smile his way. "I didn't think you even knew that phrase."

"I'm full of surprises," was Blair's rejoinder as he slid out of the truck.

"This is just an interview, see who might have been interested, who had a motive for the theft."

"And to make her feel like we're doing something."

"And to make her feel like we're doing something," Jim agreed reaching out to the bell.

Just as he was about to ring it, the door was opened and a number of ladies of various ages spilled out in long coats and Burberry scarves. He and Jim sidestepped to let the bevy of good-byes pass them. Remaining in the doorway was a woman in her sixties. The gardening gloves she wore were incongruous with the gray flannel trousers and navy sweater.

"Oh you must be the detectives Ron," Blair mentally expanded that to Mayor Ronald Whitchurch, "said would be coming."

She ushered them into the hall. "Please excuse the mess. I've just finished hosting our monthly flower arranging class. This month featured marigolds."

"If this is a bad time, ma'am," Jim started.

"No, it's fine. We're just wrapping up."

Blair felt that he should check the soles of his hiking boots when faced with the gleaming black and white marble floor of the entranceway. The squares branched around the grand staircase opposite the front door. Mrs. Hopkins led them to the left past a study and a closed door to French doors opening into a glassed-in extension at the back of the house.

"Delia?" she asked, "Is everything done?"

A stylishly dressed black woman smiled as she packed up squares of Oasis foam. "Yes, I'll just clear these out, unless you'd like to store them for next time."

"I'm away next month, so you should probably take them. Thank you again for a creative session."

Jim began to sneeze, not surprising since the room was almost a full greenhouse. There were ferns and flowers edging the room and in the center were two tables that were scattered with cuttings and some hideous arrangements. Blair picked out marigolds, red amaryllis, tulips, and a few daffodils amongst the greenery.

"I'm sorry," Jim said between sneezes. "Could we speak in," another sneeze interrupted his question, "another room?"

Ahh, the big bad cop had hay fever ..wait, Sentinel, what if...? But before Blair could echo the plea, their hostess smiled.

"Actually, I'd like you to see you to see my collection to understand why I'm so concerned." She drew them back to the closed door, pausing to key in a code on a discreetly hidden touch pad.

"I feel silly each time I do this, but Lloyd's insisted on an alarm when they insured my bears." She opened the door to reveal a room full of bears. There were shelves of bears, bears on the wall, bears on chairs. Big bears, little bears, bear figurines, and even a bear lamp.

In the middle of the room, beside a picnic blanket with several bears, were three beds, three chairs, and a table with three bowls. As well as a doll with yellow hair in curls: Goldilocks.

"Wow, the exhibit didn't have this many," Blair blurted out, earning him a not so subtle elbow from Jim.

Another scan of the room showed a number of gaps in the collection. And more importantly, the key figure seemed to be a bear with only one ear, whose nose was worn to a nub. Without realizing it, he approached the doll and reached out a hand, pausing before touching it.

"You've fine taste, young man. Patches was my very first teddy bear." She picked up the mohaired animal, and snuggled it against her cheek. "My father purchased him in Germany for my fifth birthday, and I fell in love. My children and grandchildren have all played with him, played with most of these." She waved her hand around the room.

Jim's eyebrows went up. "You let children touch them?"

"They are dolls, and, like the Velveteen Rabbit, dolls need a child's love. It was only when my son realized what I paid for some of them that he insisted on the insurance." She sighed. "Christopher laughed when I told him about Lloyd's demands."

And suddenly they were in interview mode.

"You knew Mr. Blake?"

She put down the bear. "Oh, yes. He'd often tease me about my zoo. When he was in trouble I offered to buy the Michtom, but he'd promised to keep it in the family."

"What kind of trouble, if I may ask?" Jim had his notebook out and was scribbling notes.

"The usual. His father had a head for business; Christopher had an acumen for spending. That plus the three ex-wives did a number on the Blake fortune. However, Christopher was not one to do without."

"Deep debts then?"

"I wouldn't want to spread rumors, but probate's public record. The executor made it sound like they barely had enough to cover the funeral. That's why he was so anxious to sell me the bear."

As they were talking, Blair prowled the room. The last time he'd seen so many stuffed toys was on a visit to F.A.O. Schwarz in New York. A splash of red caught his eye. It was a floppy hat on a bear with a blue coat sitting on a suit case. The bear had a tag on it. Without looking he recited, "Please look after this bear. Thank you." He wondered if Jim would appreciate seeing another visitor from Darkest Peru.

Blair noted the number of gaps in the collection. Maybe she'd loaned out other bears for the exhibit.

"Thank you for your help." Jim closed up his notebook with a snap. "Just one more question, Mrs. Hopkins. Did you have a visitor who smoked here recently?"

She tilted her head in thought. "I don't let anyone smoke in here. It's bad for the bears. But after I acquired the Michtom, a person claiming to be from _Picnic_, that's a Teddy Bear collectable magazine, asked to interview me and see it." Her smile dropped. "He ignored the rest of my collection. That gave me pause and I refused to let him hold the Michtom. He had a pipe in his pocket. It fell out."

"Did he say what he wanted?" Jim's voice was quiet and controlled. A sure sign that this was important.

"After he ascertained it was a Michtom, he asked what I had paid for it. He stuttered and then stormed out cursing that it had been promised to him." Her left hand rubbed her right wrist.

"Was that the last you saw of him?"

She hesitated. "I thought I'd caught a glimpse of him at the museum's reception last night, but that was invitation only." She started out of the room. "Detective Ellison, I don't like estate fights. Had I known it was a contentious item, I would have waited. But the executor, John Gordon, approached me." She looked around. "As much as I'd love to have an original Teddy Bear, I do not want to be dragged into litigation. Life is too short for that, even if it seems death isn't. I'd advise you to speak with Mr. Gordon."  
"Thank you. We will. If we should have any questions, will you be available this week? You mentioned going out of town?" Jim slipped his notepad into his jacket pocket.

"Out of.. .of course, Delia. That's not until the 30th. A teddy bear convention actually. In Atlanta. I was going to take the Michtom."

"We hope to have this sorted before then, Mrs. Hopkins." Handing her a card, he continued. "If you think of anything else, please call."

As they exited the driveway, Blair tried to sort out his thoughts. "She's an odd collector. Most want their prizes in pristine condition." He always thought it was a shame to have something you couldn't touch. His mom had encouraged him to practice on the Hendrix guitar, but he hadn't expected the same attitude from the wealthy.

"Her heartbeat increased when I asked about the smoker. It was the same scent as at the museum," Jim said grudgingly.

"Wow, man! That's great. We can—"

"We can do the groundwork. No judge would sign a warrant based on the scent of pipe ash." Another admonishment. He really should get a copy of the police procedure.

"But at least we have a direction, right?"

"Did you ever have lunch?"

Okay, that came from left field. Unless you spoke Ellison.

"Not yet. Hot dogs in the park?" Apology accepted.

"Sounds great, Chief. I'll leave Simon an update and see if those tapes have been delivered yet."

"Gee, dinner and a movie. You're all heart, man."

The thing was, Blair meant that.


	4. Fic: Determining Value 4/4 by SunnyD_lite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some crimes are more major than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set: 1st Season between Night Train and Rogue  
> Prompt: **tamingthemuse** prompt 89 colorless  
> A/N: Huge thanks to both **spiralleds** and **janedavitt** for betaing assistance.  
> AO3 has added odd breaks - working to fix

  
After swinging by the park to pick up a hot dog and tofu dog -- he was amazed that not only did the vendor sell tofu dogs, but there seemed to be a market for them, besides Sandburg -- they returned to the station.

Since the estate of Christopher Blake had popped up in two different avenues of investigation, it was a lead that had to be followed. Luckily, it didn't need to be followed by him.

"Hey, Henri."

Jim might have a reputation of a lone wolf, but to avoid messing with lawyers, he was happy to delegate.

And Brown was a good man. Oh, he glared and grumbled, but he'd asked Rhonda to pull the court records and was meeting with the Personal Representative who was administering the estate.

Which left him with an over-energetic observer and hours of museum tapes. At least Simon couldn't complain about gun fire.

"I grabbed the paper to see if the coverage of the reception was different than the documents Ms. Svendsen sent with the tapes. Should I get popcorn?"

"Surveillance tapes, Sandburg! This isn't the latest Hollywood blockbuster." He remembered some of Blair's weekend suggestions. "And it isn't a documentary. We're looking for anomalies."

"Which is why I've got competing sources of information." Sandburg plopped himself into one of the leatherette office chairs they'd dragged into the A.V. room. "Anthropologist? PhD student? It's not like I haven't researched before."

And that was the only reason he was here, Jim reminded himself. Research for his PhD No matter how normal it seemed that Sandburg should be helping him, it was only temporary.

"I'll cue the tapes," he said briskly. They had hours to cover; they should get started.

Within minutes the first tape revealed that they didn't have the originals, but rather the copies made in the security office of the museum. The scene on the tape changed every three seconds, running through all their cameras.

Cursing wouldn't accomplish anything, even if it did make him feel better. So he refrained.

His partner didn't. "Oh, man. Did they cheap out on their technology or," Sandburg turned to look at him with wide eyes, "you don't think they gave the originals to that Lloyd's insurance guy, do you? Not that I'm in favour of police oppression but this is an investigation to their benefit, too."

So many thoughts, and the one that stuck out was about just two words. "Police oppression? Care to explain that one, Darwin?"

Apparently, Sandburg's sarcasm meter was set to off again, because he did.

"There's a balance between private property and communal need and the role of the police in seizing surveillance tapes could be construed as silencing right of free speech, but in this situation it's an vital tool to an end that all parties would agree is good. Furthermore --"

"Or less." Jim waved the rest of the diatribe away. "You do have a point about the Lloyd's agent. I think I need to give Ms. Cooper a call." Ms. P.R.'s ego was on the line; people did and said funny things when that was the case. However, from what he'd seen, Cooper was a straight shooter. Plus, she should know the state of the museum's security technology.

Sandburg shrugged. "Say hi to Melissa for me! I'll just be going over the guest list." Then he began shuffling through the lists, as if he knew what he was looking for.

Leaving him where he was harmless, Jim started dialing the security guard's daytime number. Was there a lady in the city that Sandburg wouldn't flirt with?

##

"Seems like you were right on the first one."

Blair looked up from the papers spread on the table. "What?"

"The museum's recently upgraded their security system. It's digital, but the tapes only capture what's seen by the office. The guards have complained about it, but since the supplier is the son of a board member..."

"That just sucks. I remember them fundraising for the capital fund, using the need for updated security as one of the reasons. For most people this would be useless, but you should be able to assemble the different streams to see if they make sense."

And that was not the response he'd been expecting. "For me?"

Sandburg tilted his head. "Yes. Look, your brain is wired to assimilate large amounts of information and make sense of it. We just have to watch the tapes and your mind will create parallel scenes contemporaneous of each other."

His incredulity must have shown.

"How can I explain? It's like those flip books, you know? Where each page is a slightly different picture and when you flip, it becomes animation. I know it sounds wild, but you can do it."

The kid had come up with wackier suggestions that had worked, so, since these tapes were all they had, he shrugged his acceptance.

"Fine, let's see what we've got." And he hit play.

"Just breathe, like we practiced. Let the images flow over you. Don't worry about trying to make sense of them. Just let it happen." Blair had dropped into his coaching tone, so Jim found himself following the directions.

And began to see several scenes at once.

"Keep breathing and discard the ones you don't want. Focus on the scene with the bear."

The scenes resolved themselves into the front of the exhibit. People holding wine glasses were milling around, one couple had formed a clinch in the corner only to move abruptly when others entered. There was a general exodus, probably for the mandatory speeches, and only two people remained.

One of whom he already knew.

"Hey, isn't that Mrs. Hopkins?"

"Focusing here, Chief."

"Sorry, sorry. Keep breathing."

The other figure was a middle-aged gentleman, whose causal outfit stood out amongst the suits and cocktail dresses worn by the other guests. The videos were in black and white, but Jim would bet that the man was wearing khakis. Definitely part of a different social set.

"Wait, pause that."

While Sandburg fiddled with the tape, he replayed the scene in his mind. Why hadn't Mrs. Hopkins mentioned that she'd been grabbed? The man had been clearly agitated, but to grab her wrist, spilling the wine she held? Well, that would account for the stain and odor he'd found at the scene. And the whole time the bear was in the box.

"Actually, go on. The bear's still there."

"Are you sure?"

He turned a glare on Sandburg.

"Fine! Just let me..." And the pictures started to flow again.

More people flowed in and out of the area. The time stamp showed that it was toward the end of the reception. The bear was still there.

The cleaning crews came in. Someone spotted the wine stain. They left. The bear was still there.

The screen turned black.

"Sandburg!"

"That shouldn't be the end of the tape. These are six-hour tapes. Here, let me fast forward."

They both stared at the black screen. Not just of the exhibit, but every camera. That ruled out location-specific sabotage. The rest of the tape ran blank.

The next tape started at one a.m. – without a bear.

This time he didn't hold back on his curses.

##

After collecting a coffee-like substance -- the scent of Simon's secret stash was taunting him, but some things weren't worth the risk -- he ran over the lists. It was a who's who of Cascade's philanthropic crowd. He circled a few names that weren't familiar, just to feel like he was doing something.

And speaking of his Captain...

"Any progress?"

"We've done tons! After the crime scene, we interviewed the victim, she's a really nice lady, and then Jim reviewed the museum's tapes, and --"

"Thank you, Sandburg, but I was asking Detective Ellison here about progress, not activity."

"We've narrowed down the list of suspects, and are running down a few other collaborating leads."

While he was reporting to Simon, he noticed a courier talking to Rhonda. She approached them.

"Jim? Here are the copies from the Probate Court on the Blake Estate."

At last, something to do. "Thanks, Rhonda." He sent a grateful smile her way.

"Yes, yes. We all know you boys would be lost without me!" But she smiled back, then turned to Simon. "Sir? The Mayor's called. Twice."

"Ellison!"

"If you can hold off a few more minutes, Captain. Mrs. Hopkins mentioned an estate fight. The answer might be here."

Sandburg had been busy flipping through the documents. "Did you know he had a thirty page Will? Oh, here're the Letters Testamentary, this should sum it all up." He shook his head, wild hair flying all over the place. "Our society's obsession with paper-work is amazing. When you compare these rituals to those of the Ka'wallen tribe in --"

"If they're not a suspect, it doesn't matter what the Kay-walls were up to. Have you got anything?"

"Does the fact that one of the beneficiaries has filed an injunction against the Personal Representative count? And --" Sandburg looked Jim straight in the eye. "The topic of the injunction was a Michtom bear."

Simon was suddenly looming over the desk. "That all you got? Because the Mayor—"

"Will be interested to know that the complainant was also on the list of guests at the museum's reception last night." Jim filled in smoothly. "If we can pull up his picture from the DMV, we might be able to identify him on the video."

"And if you're thinking what I'm thinking, that might be the man who got into it with Mrs. Hopkins," Sandburg finished.

"Fine. I'll go let the Mayor know that there are solid leads." He glared over his glasses. "And I'm trusting you that they are solid."

"Yes, Captain." Because really, what else was there to say?

He turned back to his desk to find somebody making themselves at home with his computer.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"The DMV search. Remember, you showed me how a few weeks ago." Sandburg typed one last bit of information, then hit enter with a flourish. "Have we heard from Henri, yet? That could be the missing link. This is so much faster than my normal research."

"Funny, I was just thinking how many less apes it included."

That got a wince, rather than the laugh he'd been expecting. "Man, I'm sorry about Larry. I have no idea why he broke those wine glasses. I'll pay you back, once I've found my new space. Really."

"Let's just focus on this case, Chief." Didn't Sandberg know he didn't care about wine glasses? That whole trick with the video was worth crystal glasses, while the broken ones had owed their existence to Ikea.

"Fine, I'll just read the Will, then." A little abrupt for his partner. With wills he'd expected a spiel on material possessions, or tribal status, or something. And was it odd that he missed it?

His musings were interrupted by Henri's return. "You do realize you own me one, Ellison, right?"

"Why, what have you got?" He leaned back against the desk, and noticed that Blair had dropped the papers he'd been looking at.

Henri sat down at his desk and flipped open his notepad. "The Personal Rep had lawyered up by the time I met with him. But he happily confirmed what Mrs. Hopkins said. Three ex-wives, all with a hand out; and while assets did out weigh liabilities, none of those were liquid."

He looked up from his notes. "Blair, you won't believe what she paid for that toy! It was enough to clear credit cards -- and I'm talking platinum here -- and pay out some of the minor legacies. Sounds like some of the real estate will have to go to meet taxes."

"I know not everyone was thrilled with the sale," Sandburg added. "The court documents state that one beneficiary, Carl Reynolds, was to get the bear."

"John Gordon, the Representative, mentioned him. Kinda of a black sheep in the not so close family. By the sounds of it, no one was close. There were the ex-wives and then second cousins. But Reynolds, he apparently was obsessed with that bear. Gordon said he was hung up on family history, but that history didn't pay the piper."

"Huh." Sandburg sat back and steepled his hands. "I guess it's a question of value. What's more important; immediate satisfaction, public regard, or long-term security? Looks like there wasn't agreement."

He took a breath, as if preparing to pontificate on the subject, when the computer pinged.

"Shove over, Chief," Jim ordered. "With luck, those are the D.M.V. results. Maybe we have a match."

They were. And it was. Time to make an arrest.

Sticking his head in the Captain's office, Jim said, "Simon, we've got an address. To satisfy the Mayor, Brown's coming along. I'll call it in when we've the perp in custody."

Simon was still on the phone, so just made wavy hand motions. Good enough.

"Good news, at least this case shouldn't require the S.W.A.T. team," he commented on their way to the parking garage.

"Oh, man, are you trying to jinx us?"

"Jinx, Chief? Even you're too old for jinxing." He was so easy to wind up.

"It's not an age thing, more like taunting the universe. Consider it hubris, which comes from the Greek.. ."

And he was off and running. Jim let the commentary flow over him as they headed to a small house in a middle-class section of town. Smaller lots and no gated driveways. Even if it was only a couple of miles from the Hopkins' house, it was part of a different universe.

"..and that's why you shouldn't start eliminating extreme options. Hey, have you even been listening?" This was accompanied by a slight slap on his arm.

"Yes, dear," he responded mockingly, even though he had been paying attention. The linking of Ancient Greece, to Druidism, to medieval Christianity and current pop culture was like one of those see 14 countries in 14 days tours. Mind-bending, but enjoyable.

"By the way, Chief, we're not expecting trouble but it would be best if --"

"You want me to stay in the truck? Haven't I been good today?"

"An arrest isn't the same as a trip to Wonder Burger; it's not a reward for good behavior. You're an observer. Stay here and observe!"

As this debate was going on, Brown was knocking on the side window. "Hey, Ellison, are we doing this?"

With a "Stay" directed at Blair and a resulting eye roll, Jim and Brown headed up the cement walkway to the door of 427 Windy Pines Road. The setting sun cast a warm glow over the sand-colored Civic in the driveway, so hopefully Mr. Reynolds was home.

Brown nodded to him, indicating that he was to take lead. He knocked. Nothing. Wait, not nothing.

"Did you hear that?" Reaching for his weapon with one hand, he signaled for a confused looking Brown to cover the front while he raced around to the back door.

Why couldn't it have been easy?

He heard Brown calling it in, and he heard scrambling from the backyard. As he rounded the corner, he saw a gate and realized it was an enclosed backyard. Clearly they were dealing with a criminal mastermind.

A criminal mastermind with a Jack Russell Terrier. "Cascade P.D.! Get that dog under control!"

He eased the gate behind him closed, keeping the gun up. This guy was scared, not violent. The man from the tape called, "Heel, Teddy!"

Luckily the dog did. "Carl Reynolds?" The man nodded. "You are under arrest for the theft of --" Oh god. He was really going to have to say it wasn't he? "A teddy bear."

And dignity would have been too much to expect from this case. Even as Reynolds submitted to the cuffs, he was babbling at Blairspeed.

"It's my bear. He promised it to me. It's even in the Will. I can show you!"

As the man grew more agitated, so did his dog, yipping and jumping. "Get that thing under control. You have the right to remain silent." No dignity at all. He was trying to Mirandize someone while preventing the terrier from biting his leg. Luckily he'd re-holstered his gun before pulling out the cuffs; one less thing to juggle.

"Brown? Some assistance here?" Although he wasn't sure if he wanted to be seen hopping during an arrest.

"Do you understand your rights?"

"It's my bear!" Reynolds glared over his shoulder. "I don't understand why you're here. It's a private matter."

"The property," he was not going to say teddy bear, again, "was stolen from the Cascade Museum. That makes it a crime. I repeat, do you understand your rights?"

Jim figured this would get pled out, but no way would he let the case get tossed because he hadn't done his job. It was a crime, like any other. He had to believe that.

"Yes," huffed the man. "Can I let my dog back in? How long will this take? Should I get a dog sitter?"

Of course, this was the point that Brown turned up.

"Dog sitter?"

Jim hung his head. "Can you just get him out of here?" He gently pushed the perp towards Brown. "I'll check the house for the stolen property."

"Hey, don't touch it! Your hands are dirty."

"Brown." That might have come out as more of a growl but this guy would try the patience of a saint. Or two.

"This way, sir. I'm sure Detective Ellison won't harm a thing."

"Ellison? The one who caught the transvestite serial killer? I'm that important?"

Cue the uniformed back up's entry to the yard. At least Sandburg--

"Jim? Is everything okay?"

\--Hadn't stayed in the truck. He was just one ring shy of a circus.

"I'm going to clear the residence. You two, keep an eye on the dog. Sandburg --"

The kid looked up hopefully, but this was still not his job. "Why don't you talk to these guys about your research?"

If anything could distract them when he exited with a toy, it would be Sandburg. Please, please, let this work.

One of the uniforms interrupted their silent exchange of looks. "Let me get this straight. You're fine with international terrorists, but you need back up with a Russell Terrier?"

He tossed another look to Sandburg, who finally got it.

"I don't think we've met. I'm Blair Sandburg and I'm studying the police department, and its hierarchy and I'm betting you two have some great stories about interaction both with the public and.. ."

He slipped into the house during the familiar patter. All he needed to do was find the bear.

# #

Safely back at the department, he figured his partner had forgiven him by the number of questions streaming from his mouth.

"What about the blank tape from the museum and the insurance company? Will Mrs. Hopkins get the Michtom bear back? I feel like I'm leaving the theatre before the end of the movie." Sandburg's arms were waving as expansively as a conductor's.

"A side effect of police work. We can only take the case so far."

"But far enough." Simon strode out of his office. "Just got off the phone with the Mayor. He just got off the phone with Mrs. Hopkins. He's pleased with the speed you--" That was interrupted by a cough from Brown. "All of you, solved this case."

"And Jim didn't even drop his gun!"

He ducked his head. It must be the senses. He was sure he'd never been as butterfingers before. Of course, his actions just added to the grins and cheers.

"Hey, keep it down," Simon said gruffly. But he was smirking while chewing on the end of an unlit cigar. "It's not like the Mayor increased our budget."

As they groaned, Saunders from Vice popped his head in. "You guys do realize you're celebrating the return of a teddy bear, right? Go, Major Crimes!"

His smug expression was quickly wiped off as a latex glove hit him in the face.

"Nice arm, Jim." As amused as the comment was, warmth underlay his partner's tone. "Hey, doesn't this feel like it's wrapping up quickly?"

"Sometimes there are good days, Chief. If we're done here?" He looked to Simon, who nodded. "Let's head home."

They were laughing as they entered the loft carrying Chinese takeout and a six pack of micro-brew Sandburg insisted he try. Jim glanced around, seeing but not being bothered by the bright splashes of Sandburg's native throw rug over the couch and various items of clothing in the living room. His world before was tidy, ordered, colorless. This case had been about determining value. If his senses brought the unexpected and unsettling in the form of Blair, maybe that was value enough.

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> The history of the teddy bear is true. The price of a Michtom was not found in my google searches but I believe is greatly exaggerated. And I couldn't find a Tinker Toy museum, sigh


End file.
